


Cravat

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Asexual Character, Kissing, M/M, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Holmes's university day. Holmes can’t tie a cravat by himself; Pike assists him. Then kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cravat

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011 and originally posted on Livejournal.

   “I can’t do it.”  
   
   “Of course you can.”  
   
   “I am telling you I cannot.”  
   
   “Dearest, don’t be silly.”  
   
   “This confounded thing is defective!” Holmes flung the by now rather crumpled cravat across the room.  
   
   It landed almost at Pike’s feet. Giving a little roll of his eyes, he stooped and retrieved it. “Come here,” he said.  
   
   Holmes glared at him.  
   
   “Come on,” Pike coaxed. When Holmes relented and stalked across towards him he passed the cravat about Holmes’s collar, smoothing it out before crossing the ends over. “See, it is perfectly straightforward,” he said, looping one end behind the other, smoothing it again, then carefully completing the process, tying it into a neat knot.  
   
   Holmes snorted. “I have neither the time nor the space in my brain attic to waste on such trivialities.”  
   
   “Then I shall simply have to do it for you every time, won’t I?” Pike said calmly. “Dear boy, you look very smart.”  
   
   Holmes’s expression seemed to suggest that looking smart was the very least of his concerns at this moment. Perhaps, Pike thought, a little distraction was required, to derail the sulkiness that he could sense brewing. He reached and seized the loose ends of Holmes’s cravat now and used these to gently but firmly pull Holmes closer. Before Holmes could open his mouth to protest, Pike placed a kiss upon his lips. There followed a moment of tension as Holmes stiffened against him, bracing himself to flee or else to make some scathing remark to deflect Pike’s advances. It passed, as Holmes remembered who he was with; remembered that he could trust his friend never to ask for more than he could give, and he melted against Pike with a contented little sigh, leaning into the kiss now.  
   
   Pike had no idea how long the kiss lasted. For endless moments there was nothing but Holmes’s mouth on his; his lips; his tongue - still hesitant; clumsier than anyone else he had ever kissed, but intoxicating in a way none other had ever been. He reached up and cupped Holmes’s head in both hands, holding him gently, not possessively. He was dimly aware that Holmes did not raise his hands, still reticent about reciprocating, and only gripped the arm of the sofa with one hand as if to steady himself.  
   
   When at last the kiss reached a natural end, Pike still had his left hand pressed to the back of Holmes’s head and his face held close to Holmes’s, so that their noses almost touched. With his right hand he disentangled Holmes’s fingers from the sofa and lightly clasped his hand. “I love you,” he said softly.  
   
   Holmes made no verbal answer to this. He rarely did. His only response was to flash Pike the briefest of smiles, one that flickered warmly in his usually cool grey eyes but only quirked his lips up by the merest fraction.  
   
   “Well,” Pike said, giving Holmes’s fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them. “I suppose I should finish this, hmm?” He tucked the ends of the cravat neatly into Holmes’s waistcoat, before leaning over to snag the cravat pin from the tabletop. He was aware of Holmes watching him steadily as he eased the pin through the fabric. “There; you look lovely, darling.”  
   
   Holmes cast a critical glance at himself in the speckled mirror that hung crookedly upon the wall. “I look like some conceited coxcomb.”  
   
   “Yes, but it does suit you so.” Pike chuckled and declined to mention his desire to bedeck Holmes with copious quantities of velvet and brocade and ruffled cuffs. There would be, he was sure, plenty of time for that later.


End file.
